


Sunshine On A Cloudy Day

by just_like_lili



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, It all comes together in the end, M/M, Minor Character Death, Past Sexual Abuse, Sexual Abuse, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Teen Romance, Unplanned Pregnancy, but in the past, more tags to come
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-19 11:00:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29998329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_like_lili/pseuds/just_like_lili
Summary: “If Louis was the sun, and the baby inside was a seed, Harry could only hope they grew to be nothing like their father.”-Over the course of the past three years, Harry has successfully managed to distance himself from his family and to grow closer and closer to the boy he loves. When he falls pregnant, his world is shifted, and he risks losing everything he loves, especially Louis- who isn’t the father.Or: After years of abuse, Harry hopes to seek justice for himself, healing for his family and the home his child deserves.-TW: Sexual Abuse, Suicide.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 10
Kudos: 16





	Sunshine On A Cloudy Day

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone. I wanted to pop on in here and put a big, massive trigger warning for this story. This story contains talk of abortion, sexual abuse from an authority figure, and suicide. None of these topics will be explored in scenes but will be described from Harry’s perspective, sometimes in graphic detail. 
> 
> That being said, I hope you can continue to read this, as I’ve put a lot of work into this and I consider it a labor of love. 
> 
> I do not own One Direction, I merely chose them to represent the characters in this story. Nothing in this story is true. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy your day. Mwah x

Harry was never as terrified as the day he was sitting in the clinic, waiting for results from a test he’d taken behind everyone’s back. His foot tapped against the floor, and his breaths grew raggedy. At one point he became convinced that he forgot how to breathe, and a nurse came in and noticed how pale he’d become, and like a decent person, she’d helped Harry through the panic attack. Harry never met that nurse again, but that simple act of kindness was more meaningful than anything his family had said to him in the past year. Or anyone, if he was going to take it there. 

And it wasn’t to say his family was bad, just, well, distant. Not by any fault of their own, either, that was mostly Harry’s own doing. 

Harry used to think it started when he was around thirteen, and The Incident happened, but really, it happened when he was too young to even remember. 

He never knew his dad. He knew he was nice, he knew he was good. He knew he loved his family, and he taught Gemma catch, and he’d pick Harry up and toss him in the air and make him laugh. That part was true, as evidenced by photos and home videos. But Harry never felt like he was watching himself when those videos played- it was more like he was an intruder, peeking into someone else’s childhood. It felt like an invasion of privacy, even if it was his own. And he never connects happiness to those photos, unlike Mum and Gemma. They had a chance to know him, to fall in love with every facet of his being and to enjoy the moments shared with him. They could pinpoint memories and smiles and happiness in every captured moment, but all Harry could remember were tears, and well, there weren’t pictures of the funeral in the photo albums. 

Harry was three, and it was his birthday. A drunk driver, a tricky turn, and two miles from his home there still stood a memorial for his father that Harry passed every time he went to school. It was disturbing to look out the window of the car and know exactly where his father had been killed. 

Gemma used to cry on Harry’s birthday. Mum got better at hiding it. But there was an unmistaken sadness about the day that made Harry not want to celebrate it. He didn’t ask for presents, he didn’t throw parties, he didn’t do anything. And his mum stopped pushing him to have a celebration, so in effect, Harry’s birthday would come and pass like any other day of his week. He sat through a special dinner, he sat through the presents and smiled the whole time, but the act dropped when he went to bed, when the cake he’d just eaten lay in a lump in his stomach and made him feel sick for eating it in the first place. He thought about how he was supposed to drive with his dad that day, and he wondered if that would’ve made a difference. 

Louis always told him yes, it would have. Because Louis would’ve never met Harry, and then he wouldn’t have gotten to know him the way he did. Harry smiled at the time. It was over a year ago, when he was fourteen. That was the first day Louis kissed him, and the first day Harry felt like people might actually want him around. Or at the very least, Louis wanted him around, and Louis was enough. 

He would’ve been by Harry’s side in the clinic, if Harry had told him. But Harry felt sick to his stomach at the thought of facing Louis and saying the words- “I might be pregnant.”

He and Louis hadn’t done it. And Harry wasn’t ready to breach the thinly veiled walls of their friendship with his secrets. It was the only thing he was happy about anymore, why would he ruin it?

And as those words ran through his mind, he realized that he would anyway. There was no avoiding Louis finding this out, and Harry prayed that he never had to. 

If he was pregnant, he’d have to tell Louis. He’d probably tell him first, although he imagined that in doing so he’d lose his best friend. He didn’t want this to be the second time disapointing his family in three years. Especially not after The Incident. 

The person he wanted to tell the least was Paul. He never wanted him to know he’d been at the clinic if the results were negative. If the results came back negative, he would bury this secret with him. He’d resigned himself to that years ago. If a secret was going to rip his family apart, or kill Harry instead, Harry would always, always take the fall. 

He’s only here because it’s gotten too much. Even his mother noticed, and she barely does in the first place. He threw up at breakfast and blamed it on his anxiety. He passed out at school and blamed it on the stress. Nobody else seemed to notice the parallels, but Harry had spent too much of his free time hunched over toilets and trash bins for it to be nothing. He really hoped it was nothing. 

The clinic had harsh lights. They burned holes into Harry’s back as he sat in the chair, tapping his foot against the linoleum floor. He pulled his hoodie closer around him. It was late in the afternoon, and he’d told Gemma he was headed to Louis’ to stay the night. He was planning to anyways. 

His backpack sat at his feet. His phone was in there, buzzing against the leg of the chair. He ignored it. His location was turned off, so clearly nobody knew where he was, and whoever it was, calling with some stupid petty shit, could wait. This was far more significant than anything Harry had ever gone through. He’d gone to the clinic on the far side of town just to make sure nobody had seen him, and he kept checking over his shoulder as he entered the building. 

“Styles?” He turned to the door. The doctor who’d administered his test was there in the doorway. He looked at Harry. 

Harry picked up his backpack and walked towards the back halls, feeling like everyone was watching him, the only teenager in a room of adults, filing their nails and young couples sitting happily, their first child growing in the womb. Fuck them. Fuck how happy they were. 

“Step right on back,” the doctor instructed. His name badge read  **Liam Payne, MD.**

“I’d like to consult you about the results of your tests in the back room,” Dr. Payne explained. “I understand that most patients want as much privacy as possible.”

“Thanks,” Harry said, following the doctor down the hall. There were posters of pregnant bodies and growing babies on the walls, and with every minute Harry grew more anxious. He was certain that this had to be something. 

“Take a seat,” Dr. Payne invited, walking into an exam room and gesturing towards one of the chairs. Harry sank down, holding his backpack to his chest. He felt very small, all of a sudden. The doctor plopped down into his chair. 

“So, my name is Liam Payne,” he said, and Harry nodded, pretending like he hadn’t read his nametag and figured that out himself. “But you can call me Doc, or Doctor Liam, if you wish. I don’t consider myself to be very old, it feels weird to be called Dr.  _ Payne _ .” He laughed. Harry tried to, but his nerves got the best of him, and the sound he’d tried to force out got caught in his throat and choked him. He coughed, tears springing to his eyes. The doctor’s smile faded, and he took the hint. 

“Well, I understand this is a very stressful thing,” he said. “How old are you, Harry?”

“Almost sixteen,” Harry answered. Pity flashed in the other man’s eyes. He felt his heart sink into his queasy stomach. There was no good answer. There was nothing saving him.

_ Please, please, please  _ he thought,  _ not now. Please not now.  _

“Well, I don’t believe this is cause for celebration, but your results did come back positive,” Doctor Liam said. Harry nodded, swallowing around the newly formed lump in his throat. “Ok,” he choked out. The doctor looked sympathetic. He reached out a hand to pat Harry on the shoulder. 

“Hey,” he said. “Don’t be afraid to cry. I have a lot of people coming in with unwanted pregnancies- it’s an emotional ordeal, and you shouldn’t hide that. Don’t worry. I’m not telling anyone outside of this room. Confidentiality, remember?” Harry chuckled through his tears. 

“Yeah, ok,” he said. Doctor Liam frowned. “I’m not a counselor, but I could give you a couple contacts if you’d like to speak to someone. I know someone who offers free sessions, you might want to speak with her,” he explained. 

Harry nodded again, solemnly. “So, do I get a scan?” He asked. “How can I tell if it’s- if  _ they  _ are healthy?”

“We don’t usually do scans the first appointment,” the doctor said. “I’d say to come in next month for a scan, unless you know what day you last had unprotected intercourse. It would help us to pinpoint how old the foetus is.” 

“Um,” Harry said, trying to recall that night. Paul had come to him in September, after neglecting him for months on end, ending the happy spell of relief Harry had been enjoying. “It was in September. The ninth, or tenth, I think.” 

“Ok,” Doctor Liam said. “That puts you at about six weeks now. If you were planning to terminate the pregnancy, ideally, we try to aim around the eight week mark, so it’s less traumatic on the body.” Harry looked down at his feet. 

“Would that make me a bad person?” He asked.

There was a pause. 

“No, Harry,” the doctor said. “You’re just young. Parenthood can upset someone’s life severely, especially as a teenager. You’re not a bad person.”

Harry went quiet. The doctor didn’t say anything, clearly uncomfortable by the sudden change of atmosphere. 

“So I’ll take it that you’re considering an abortion?” He asked. Harry took a breath. “I don’t know,” he said. “Can I think about it?” 

“Of course,” Doctor Liam said. He pushed back on his heels, propelling himself towards the desk in his swivel chair. “Here,” he said, reaching over and picking up a small card to hand to Harry. “She is my recommendation for a counselor- free sessions, and she’s a licensed therapist. Why don’t you try talking to her, and then you can make a decision. If you want to terminate it, just call the clinic, ask to speak to me, and we can set up a time and date. You’ll just need an adult to pick you up afterwards. Sorry,” he said, noticing Harry’s grimace. “S’ just the rules.” 

“Are you going to tell my mum?” He asked. Doctor Liam shook his head. “No, absolutely not. That’s your private life, it’s out of practice for me to intervene.” He said firmly. 

Harry nodded, looking down at the card in his hand. It felt oddly heavy. His heart beat rapidly against his chest. 

He was pregnant. He was pregnant and fucked, and he didn’t know what to do. 

-

Louis and him weren’t exactly dating. They weren’t exactly just friends, though. 

Louis moved into town three months after Harry got out of a mental hospital. They were thirteen, friendless, and going to the same school. Harry didn’t expect to become friends, but when the nights at his house got bad, he had only Louis to go to. 

His mum knew about Louis. She didn’t know who he was, but she understood his existence, and his significance in Harry’s life. She always asked about him with a jealous tone, always knowing Harry would tell him things she never heard about anymore. 

They kissed once- well, a few times- but it never went further. It didn’t seem to matter. Harry loved Louis, regardless of anything. He was his only friend, and he’d spent more nights in Louis’ bed than he had his own home. 

Harry walked down the street, his backpack slung over his shoulder, his hands pushing his bike beside him. Louis’ house was the last on the cul-de-sac, in front of a long strech of marshy field, enough land for all his sisters to run around. It was a pretty house, like the one Harry used to live in, before they moved away. 

He walked up to the drive. There were sunflowers growing in the front, ones that Harry helped plant over the summer with Lottie and Fizzy. They’d wilt soon, as it kept getting colder. In the window, he could see the twins’ art projects, pink and yellow and blue and green all splashed across the paper. He smiled at it, his hand reaching unconsciously for his belly. 

What if he had the baby? What if they grew up to make cute little pictures just like those in the window? What if he planted flowers in a garden of his own with them?

He walked up to the yellow door. He knocked once, and immediately, the door opened. He was washed in the homely light, and Daisy stared up at him, bursting into a grin that streched from ear to ear when she saw it was him. 

Louis’ family was the best. 

“Harry!” She cried, running forward and hugging his leg. He smiled, stooping down to her level. “Hey, Daisy,” he said. “Is your brother home?” 

“He’s in his room,” she said. “We’re going to have dinner. Will you eat with us?” Harry smiled a little bit wider. “If that’s ok with your mum,” he said. Daisy pursed her lips, smiling with her rosy mouth pressed in two thin little lines. 

“Mum!” She cried, running into the house, “Can Harry eat with us?” Harry chuckled, following her in, and being sure to close the door. 

Lottie and Fizzy smiled and waved as he passed by the playroom. They were presumably doing homework together, sitting by the window and looking over each other’s soldiers. Pheobe was sitting with her toy horses by Jay’s feet, and Jay was standing over the stove. Daisy ran right up to her before she had the chance to turn around. 

“Mum!” Daisy said, nearly barreling into her mother. She giggled, asking again, “Can Harry eat with us tonight?” 

Jay turned her attention elsewhere, glancing over at Harry. She smiled, albeit a little surprised. “Harry!” She said. “I didn’t hear you come in.” Harry smiled. “I just got here,” he said. She nodded; her gaze dropped, and she saw the backpack in his hands. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other. 

“I was hoping I could stay here for the weekend,” he said, wincing. “S’ just some stuff going on at home.” He took in a long breath. It was always nerve wracking to ask to stay over uninvited, but most of the time, something  _ was  _ going on at his home, and he was telling the truth. Today he wasn’t- and he prayed that she couldn’t see through him. He knew she was a midwife, and he wasn’t sure whether or not she might be able to tell, but the pamphlets in his backpack were there, and even his normal, not-pregnant belly seemed to hold more weight than usual, even if he was as skinny as ever. 

“Of course,” she said, and he relaxed. “Does your mother know you’re over here?” He nodded. It was true. It was almost heartbreaking to him how easily she’d agreed to see him walk out of the door on a Thursday afternoon, only promising to be back Sunday evening.    
  
Jay smiled. “Perfect. I’m fixing some potatoes and greens, and there’s fish in the oven, I’ll set another plate in a minute. And there’s a cake in the fridge,” she added in a whisper, so the girls couldn’t hear. Harry smiled. That was the thing about Jay. She was sweet and kind and everything anyone could want. She’d talk to you, laugh with you, cry with you. One time, she joked that Harry was like her replacement son. Everyone laughed at the time- Harry included- but he could never shake off the feeling of pride in himself. He’d always meant to tell her how much that meant to him, and he just never found the right time to. 

“Thanks, Jay,” he said. He glanced over around the room. “I think I’m just going to find Louis,” he said, pointing up towards the second story. Jay nodded. 

“He’s talking with Zayn again, so it might be a minute,” she informed him. “But you’re free to do whatever. Mark’s working late tonight, so you two could watch a movie together in the den after homework.” 

“Ok,” Harry said, beginning to walk towards the staircase. Everything about Louis’ house seemed familiar. His hand seemed to be the perfect fit for the railway going up the stairs, he knew where to put his feet to avoid the creaks in the floorboards and the sighs they’d let out if you stepped on them too hard. 

Harry reached Louis’ door, which was closed. He chuckled a little at the signs,  _ NO TWINS ALLOWED, go away fizzy,  _ and Harry’s personal favorite,  _ Knock after 7 pm.  _ He still remembered the one time he hadn’t, and Louis had gone scrambling for a pillow- it took a long time for the two of them to get over that. 

Harry knocked softly. “Go away, Mum,” Louis said. “I’m talking to Zayn.” Harry let a pause settle before he answered, “It’s me, Lou.” 

There was a minute of silence, as Harry heard hushed words and a rustling in the other room before Louis opened the door with a big smile. “Hey,” Louis said, blushing a shade and reaching up to push caramel strands of hair out of his cerulean eyes. Harry smiled back. 

“Hi,” he said, “your mum said it was ok to crash here for the weekend. S’ that fine?” Louis nodded within a heartbeat. “Of course,” he said. “S’ not too bad at home, is it?” Harry shrugged. “It is what it is,” he said, and Louis didn’t say anything else. He just reached out a hand, and Harry took it. Louis stroked his thumb over Harry’s dry and cracked knuckles. 

“I thought you were talking to Zayn,” Harry said. Louis laughed, shaking his head. “It’s ok,” he said. “I’m glad you’re here.” Harry smiled, feeling a warmth in his belly, like Louis was the sun. If Louis was the sun, and the baby inside was a seed, Harry could only hope they grew to be nothing like their father. 

  
  
  



End file.
